Christmas in Harlem
by Skarsgaard
Summary: Racetrack gets stranded in Harlem on Christmas Eve with Cobra and his boys. Writting for Dewey's Holiday Fan Fic Contest.
1. New York City1898

**Here is the first part of Christmas in Harlem, written for Dewey's Holiday Fan Fic contest! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Manhattan Newsies, I DO Own the Harlem newsies. Enjoy.**

**Christmas In Harlem**

_New York City-1898 _

December was a cold month in New York city and often a dreary month. Selling was cold, wet and miserable. Clothes got soaked through by wet heavy snow, boots and socks leaked. The lodging houses were usually not very well heated and drafted in places.

But there was one bright spot in the whole miserable business. One thing to look forward to. Christmas. Although it was a thread-bare affair, most Newsies across New York made the most of it and enjoyed their limited but fun festivities.

People all over the city were buying their trees that were brought in from Upper New York somewhere and decorating them. Bakery's were in their high season with pastries, cookies and other holiday goods. Holiday gowns and suits were brought out of closets and freshened up, carpets were taken and cleaned. But this sort of thing went on in the large, rich houses of the bankers, lawyers, merchantmen and so on.

Our story begins in the Manhattan Newsboys Lodging House, one dark snowy eve………


	2. Manhattan Harlem December 22

_Manhattan_ _~ December 22_

"Come on boys, get those branches cut and put up." Kloppman ordered, walking around the bunches of his boys sitting on the floor cutting fir boughs apart to make some decorations.

Nobody asked where Kloppman had gotten the boughs from, and nobody was planning on asking. Racetrack heaved a deep sigh and pulled another small branch off of his bough.

"Kloppy….you tink we can stop now? I tink we have enough…." he whined.

Jack snickered a little bit, "If you want to go so badly Race, why don't you head up to Harlem and get my hat? I left it there last time I was up there…."

Blink and Mush looked from Jack, to Race. "Jack….its dark out. And they don't like me up in Harlem." Racetrack replied with a dark scowl.

"Why not?" Mush asked, tying some small branches together.

Skittery cackled from the top of the stairs, where he was tying on the finished decorations to the railing. "Because he cheats. And Cobra and them don't like cheaters."

Jack got a thoughtful look on his face, "Then maybe it's a good idea to make you go up there. Tomorrow morning you can go up and get my hat." he said with a air of finality.

Racetrack lowered his dark brows, "You ain't the boss of me."

"Ooowww…." Mush and Blink said together.

Jack didn't say anything to Racetracks comment, since it was rather true, and kept his mouth shut about the matter. Race had been in a cantankerous mood the last couple of days and nobody could figure out why. Snipeshooter had suggested that maybe it was because he didn't have any more cigars but nobody was quite able to pin it on that.

"'sides, you got plenty of time before Christmas to get your stupid hat." Racetrack muttered, ripping a branch off and pitching it into the pile.

Crutchy came in with a big grin on his face and several small packages wrapped in brown paper under his arm.

"Heya guys! I got some stuff to put unda our tree, when it gets 'ere of course."

Kloppman smiled and took the packages from Crutchy and stored them under the counter, with the rest of small, but extremely meaningful gifts. He had gotten a good bargain on a small tree, and all the boys had pitched in to help pay for it. In return, he wouldn't charge them lodging for a few nights. It was a win win situation.

"So Crutchy," Jack said, getting up and putting his arm around the sweet boy, "What's this I hear about Spot swindlin' some old guy for his papes?"

The rest of the boys looked up. They had all heard about the scandal in Brooklyn but didn't know many details.

Crutchy slipped out from under Jack's arm and sat down on the stairs next Skitts.

"Well…" he said, dragging the word out, "What I heard was that Spot just asked for more money than what we're supposed to charge. The old guy complained and Spot told him that prices had risen. Da guy didn't want to pay it, but he did…" he finished.

The boys shook their heads in disgust. "Why don't Conlon jus' get a second job if he wants more money? As much as he hangs around da docks, he could get a job there." Blink said, hitting the floor with his fist.

"Yeah…he don't have no rights to be jacking up da prices of _his_ papes!" Boots chimed in from his marble game with the other smaller boys.

The other boys nodded in silent agreement and went on with their holiday preparations….

_Harlem Lodging House_

Will came into the small makeshift lodging house and stomped the snow off her boots, shivering. Her light golden hair was pulled back in a braid and covered in snow, but her eyes sparked with a inner warmth that wasn't from her dark blue wool jacket. She had never found out how or where Cobra had gotten the jacket from, but she had had a strange feeling that he had knocked over some sailor and taken it. No matter, it kept her warm and she was glad for it, even if Cobra had killed for it.

"Well, I couldn't find anyone who wanted to sell me cod or pigs feet." she said to the three fair haired brothers who were sitting at the table playing three way checkers.

Cobra looked up silently after making a move and nodded, "Don't worry Will, I'll get in touch with someone at the docks and get some cod." he said quietly.

"It won't be Christmas without _lutefisk and risgrynsgrot_…" Bouncer sighed.

Will and Cobra both looked over at little Olaf playing with Knick and Knack, the dark Spanish twins. Olaf and the twins were pretty much inseparable, being close in age and mind set. None of them spoke really good English, but they always understood each other perfectly.

"Tic…you said that you would be the _Jultomten_?" Cobra asked, looking at his younger brother.

Tic was the middle son but the youngest of the three. There was a nine year gap between himself and Olaf. Tic was fifteen, Bouncer was sixteen and Cobra was seventeen and a half. Olaf was six.

He nodded in reply and moved his piece, "I wish either Jack would come get that greasy hat of his or we would take it back, its starting to get on my nerves."

Will picked the nasty thing up and moved it out of Tic's sight. "There? Is that better?" she asked with a sarcastic sniff.

"Now you two behave." Cobra said, winning the game and leaning back in his chair, stretching. "We really need to get a tree or something somehow. The little ones need to remember something good about this year…"

Fiend came in from who knows where and scurried to the little stove, shivering. Being of Italian blood, he was much better suited to the hot summer days than the cold blustery winter ones. He took his thin coat off finally and huddled closer to the stove.

"Gosh its cold out there."

Cobra looked at him silently for a moment, "Fiend…its only thirty two out. Its not _that_ bad."

Bouncer and Tic cackled. Fiend's dark eyes rolled and he huffed,

"Yeah, but you guys have ice in your veins…I got warm sunny days in mine. I ain't built for this kind of weather."

October got up from his shoe patching and came over, "Fiend…I'm scotch-Irish, do you see me complaining about the weather?" he asked.

Fiend pulled a chair out from the table and sat down in it, then bent over and pulled his wet boots and socks off before looking up and replying.

"No…but those countries over there get cold, and its that nasty, wet, foggy, cold junk too," he argued, "And you weren't born there anyways! You were born in Brooklyn."

October laughed then turned to his leader, "Oh Cobra…"

Cobra looked up at his goon, then turned in his chair a little bit, giving October his full attention,

"Yes?"

"I found this guy in da Bronx, who will get us a tree. I thought you might want to know."

Cobra regarded him in silence for a moment, "Well I'm glad you decided to tell me."

Will stepped between the two and gave October a meaningful look, then poured weak coffee for the brothers and the shivering, whining Fiend…

_Note: The Jultomten is the Swedish Santa Claus, a gnome who lived under the houses and brought good luck to the farms and such._

_risgrynsgrot is a rice pudding that was served on Christmas Eve and Lutefish is pickled cod._


	3. ManhattanHarlemDecember 23

Manhattan ~ December 23

"Wake up boys! Come on, get outta bed! Snows fallin', papers needn' sellin'! People don't know what's going on without you guys!" Kloppman shouted, banging his cane on the metal bed frames.

A chorus of groans, whines and complaints filled the air and the room started to come to life. Skittery fell off his bunk and hit the ground with a loud 'oof', Snipershooter aimlessly stuck his hand in Racetrack's cigar box, even though he knew it was empty.

Race woke up with a growl and cuffed Snipe on the head, giving him a warning glare while brandishing Spot's cane which he had won in a poker game,

"If I catch your grimy paw in my box again, I'll shove this cane so far up your rear you won't sit down for a month!"

Blink cackled at the look on Snipeshooters face, "Little grouchy this morning Race?"

"Yeah Race, what got your long johns in a wad?" Mush asked, pulling his socks over his blue toes carefully, as if expecting them to fall off if he was to rough.

Jack dropped out of bed yawning, his hair standing on end and padded blearily over to the others,

"What's the…trouble?"

Racetrack looked up at Jack, "This crumb won't keep his dirty paws outta my box." he snapped, pulling his pants and shirt on over his long johns.

"Yeah and Race said if he caught 'im in there again, he'd shove dat cane up 'is rear." Mush chimed in.

Jack frowned and ran his hand through his hair, "Come downstairs wit me Race…"

Race narrowed his eyes at Snipeshooter and got up, stepping gently on the cold floor and followed Jack downstairs.

The air in the lobby smelled of wood smoke and spicy fir. Kloppman had a pot of coffee on the stove and its aroma added to the warm fragrances.

"Now, what's the trouble Race? You've been in a nasty mood ever since last week." Jack said, sitting on the bottom step and pulling Racetrack down next to him.

Racetrack glowered at the floor, his hand running over and over his other hand, fingers intertwining and untwining,

"Nothin's wrong."

Jack sighed and leaned back on the stairs, "Then why the attitude?"

"I…I just dread…" Race started then stopped, clenching his teeth and bending to tie his boots, which he had brought down with him.

Racetrack had only been with the Manhattan Newsies since spring, before then he had been a Bronx newsie, but their previous leader had kicked him out for unknown reasons. He had never brought it up and Jack or the others had never mentioned it, wisely enough.

"You can tell me Race…" Jack said, watching his normally cheerful friend with concern.

Racetrack looked up at Jack, his dark eyebrows furrowed,

"I dread Christmas."

Kloppman looked up from his counter where he was sorting out paperwork and stared at Racetrack. Jack gave a little frown and got up, moving into the corner of the room were it was a little more private.

"Why would you dread Christmas, Race?"

Racetrack came over and put his hat and a scarf on, "I just do. I gotta go sell, see ya later."

With that he pulled a light jacket on and went out into the cold snowy world, wanting to get to the distribution center early, mainly because he didn't want to stick around the lodging house with Jack asking questions. His mood lightened a little bit on the way there, for Christmas cheer was in the air.

A little boy threw a snowball at his friend, but missed, hitting Racetrack in the back of the head. Race spun around, shivering as the cold snow went into his collar and almost skewered the boy with a black look.

"Sorry mista'. I din' mean to hit ya." the little boy said, looking remorseful.

Wiping the snow from his collar Racetrack smiled a little bit, "Its ok kid…just watch where you're throwin' next time."

The boy nodded and he ran off with his friend, slipping and sliding in the snow, laughing gaily.

"Kids…no worries about tomorrow…" Race said to himself, starting to twirl his newly acquired cane around as he approached the distribution center. Normally he would have stopped by the nuns' cart for some hot coffee and bread, but today he avoided them.

Some other boys were already there, hanging off the gate, chattering among themselves, talking about hot food and warm beds. Racetrack avoided them and hung off to one side, waiting impatiently for the gates to open, so he could get his papes and get gone before Jack and the others got there.

He stuck his hand through the gate and waved at Mr. Wiesl, pointing to the gate when he got his attention. When Wiesl shook his head at the request, Racetrack held up a racing form, a knowing look on his face.

Wiesl frowned, thinking, then looked around. Upon seeing no one besides a few working boys, he called to one of them and had Racetrack let in. As he slipped through the gate and trotted up to the window, he was glad Jack wasn't there yet, or else he would get a major chewing out and Racetrack Higgins hated being chewed out.

"Mr. Weisl. I'll take the usual." Race said, putting his money down on the counter.

"Now hold on. I wanna know who to bet on." he said, glancing around a little bit.

Since horse racing wasn't held in the winter time, Racetrack frequented the boxing rings and sometimes the indoor greyhound tracks.

"Ok ok. Bowerman is in good form this next fight. MacFinnal, he's doing pretty well to…but I would put my money on Bowerman," Race said quietly, "MacFinnal has a mean left hook, but he tore a muscle in his last match."

Wiesl nodded, "ok…here," he pushed three dollars to Racetrack, "Put put two on Bowerman, one on MacFinnal."

Racetrack pocketed the money, "Fine, now gimme my papes."

"Yeah ok. Don't get grabby." Wiesl said, counting out the papers and sliding them to Race, who shouldered them and took off……..

_Harlem ~ December 23_

In the upper east corner on Harlem, called Sugar Hill, in the small dumpy brick building that served as a lodging house, the Harlem newsies were up and about, getting ready to make their trek to the Harlem distribution center. All but Cobra and his two brothers. They took the evening edition and worked mornings at the river docks, unloading boats bringing supplies upriver from the harbor in Brooklyn.

The work this time of year was miserable and dangerous, since one slip would land you into the freezing river. Luckily the brothers were excellent swimmers and the cold didn't bother them to much.

Big companies and corporations gave most of their employees three days off for Christmas, but the smaller places, such as the docks that the brothers worked at, didn't. Somebody still had to get supplies to Upper New York and if it wasn't the smaller businesses, then who would do it?

As Cobra split off from his brothers to head for where he worked, his mind was churning. His eyes were narrowed a little bit, hands deep in his pockets as he contemplated a way to get codfish without going to the large fish shops in Brooklyn. Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without _lutefisk_. He strode into his employers tiny cramped office and wrote his time down, glancing up at the clock.

"You're early Svensson." Mr. Kirkson, owner of the dock and transport ships said, glancing at the clock as well.

Cobra gave a start at hearing his real name. He had gotten so used to his nickname being used, when he did hear his birth name, it always surprised him.

"Yes. I am early. But I have a question, maybe favor to ask." he said, setting his hand on the deck and leaning on it.

"Of course Svensson, what it is?"

Cobra looked around to make sure they were alone, "I need to find some….cod."

Mr. Kirkson stared at him, "Cod? Codfish? What ever for?"

"For Christmas…Its tradition to have cod," Cobra said, shifting his weight off his bad leg uncomfortably, "Do you know of anyone who would have some…cheap?"

"I have a friend in Queens, his wife's mother is from Norway, she owns a little shop that would probably have cod." Mr. Kirkson said, writing down the address and handing it to Cobra.

Cobra read the address with a pointed look, then nodded, shoving it in his pocket,

"Thank you. The first boat is in, I will go to work now." he said, spinning on his heel and leaving the building…….

That afternoon after work, Cobra crossed the Harlem/Queens bridge and strode into Queens. After an hour of wandering around and double checking his piece of paper, Cobra finally found the little shop and went in.

A bell tinkled as he opened the door and warm smells of baked goods met his nose. Glancing around he noticed a barrel in the corner, a sign on it reading, 'Pickled Cod, 25 cents'.

"God kveld?" he called, looking around the shop, fingering little handmade things, "Hei?"

A wrinkled old lady came out of the back and looked at him pointedly. Cobra felt that she could be a nasty person to be on the wrong side of.

"What do you want?" she snapped, ending the sentence with a tap of her cane on the floor.

"Har du, lutefisk?"

"Stop speaking my language, you Swede's never could speak good Norwegian. Yes, I have cod. In that barrel. Help yourself." she barked, pointing to the barrel and skewering him again.

Cobra shot her a equally pointed look for her criticism of his Norwegian and helped himself to the cod, filling a little box with it then setting it on the counter.

"Is that all?" she snapped.

"No." Cobra said, turning and wandering around the shop, looking at everything, fingering, picking up and feeling. A pair of dark brown wool gloves caught his interest and he put them on the counter.

"Now?"

"Yes, now." Cobra replied, pulling his money from his pocket.

Mr. Kirkson had paid him a day early, in case he wanted to buy anything for Christmas, which Cobra was glad for, or else he couldn't have paid for the gloves.

After paying the cranky old lady, Cobra headed back to Harlem, whistling a little bit, thinking about Will's reaction when he gave her the cod. A icy wind suddenly picked up, ruffling his hair and going down his back. He turned and looked in the direction of the ocean. A large dark cloud was brewing off shore, sucking up moisture to dump in the form of a blizzard on New York City.

Cobra hunched his shoulder's against the wind and continued on his way, avoiding as many people as was possible, his pace picking up a bit. In a hour and a half, he had reached the lodging house, in time to warm up before going back out to sell the evening edition.

Will was already back, helping October set up the tree he had gotten from the Bronx. Olaf and the twins were chattering like jays, running around the tree, laughing and wrestling. Cobra paused in the doorway, watching them with a hint of a smile, then shut the door and stomped the slush off his boots.

"Will." he said, sitting down next to the fire.

She turned around and her face lit up, "You got the cod!" she exclaimed, spotting the wooden box under Cobra's arm.

"Yes, I did. Mr. Kirkson knew of a Norwegian over in Queens who has a shop. Nasty old bat…criticized my Norwegian." he huffed, setting the box and the gloves on the table

Will walked over to him and picked the gloves up, looking at him questioningly, slipping them on.

"For the guest," Cobra explained, "And if we don't have a guest, then you can have them."

She smiled and leaned down to his ear, "I hope we don't have a guest." she whispered.

Cobra pushed her away, "I see October got the tree."

Will looked away from him, "Yeah…he did." she said shortly, taking the gloves off and taking them and the fish to the 'kitchen'.

The kitchen was really nothing more then two handmade bookcases facing inwards with a curtain stretched across the opening. A basin for water and some crates made up the counter. The stove sat just out side the main opening, with the makeshift table and chairs.

The air was now full of the sweet sappy smell of the little spruce tree and of course the floor was sticky with sap and littered with needles but that didn't matter much. Cobra watched his baby brother help October anchor the tree down. Knick and Knack ran hither and yon, chattering away still and Cobra smiled before slipping out to sell the evening edition……


	4. Christmas EveHarlem

_Manhattan Lodging House_

That night when Racetrack got back to the lodging house, he snuck in avoiding Jack and going promptly to his bunk without a word to anyone. Crutchy watched him come into the bunkroom and once Racetrack had sat down and taken his boots and hat off, came over and sat down on Snipeshooter's bunk.

"So Racetrack, I need a little help."

Race looked up at Crutchy stonily and pulled his scarf off, but didn't reply. Crutchy didn't notice the look, or if he did he shrugged it off.

"Ya see, I'm tryin' ta think of something to get Mush for Christmas, but I'm drawn' a blank here." Crutchy explained.

"I wouldn't know. Never given presents before." Race replied shortly, emptying his days earnings into his box.

Crutchy cocked his head to one side and frowned deeply, "Race…you've never given anyone a gift before?"

Racetrack looked up at him, wondering what the fuss was about., "No…never saw why I would want ta…its not like I ever got presents either." he said with a scowl.

"Dat's terrible Race…" Crutchy said, clearly concerned, but his plan to find out why Race hated Christmas was working so far.

"I don't see why its so terrible. So I've never given or gotten presents before, big deal." Racetrack growled, standing up and fluffing his pillow up.

Crutchy shook his head and took his cap off, giving it a shake, shaking off the hurt feeling that stabbed through his chest,

"So you can't think of anyting to get Mush?"

Racetrack sat back down on his bunk and looked at Crutchy. He didn't want to hurt his feelings by being snappy; Crutchy was one of his best buddies and everyone liked him. Hurt Crutchy and you had a lot of people mad at you. So Race sighed and closed his eyes, thinking hard about what Mush would want that wasn't impossible and unaffordable on a newsboys wages.

"I dunno…pair of socks? His are getting some big holes in da toes…"

Crutchy's face lit up with unbridled happiness that can only come from someone who is very childlike mentally and he slapped his cap on his knee, beaming,

"That's perfect! I knew you would tink a' something Race!"

Racetrack stood back up, "Glad I could help." he said with a small grin, patting Crutchy on the back before heading to the bathrooms to get cleaned up a little bit.

While he was in the bathroom washing his face off and running a comb through his hair, he thought a little bit about Christmas. He had never had a true Christmas before. The Bronx newsies had never done anything for the holiday's before, and when he was still at home, before that, Christmas was just a time to drink a lot of wine and beat everybody.

He gave a sigh and looked at himself in the piece of broken mirror. A sad, miserable boy looked back him, no smile or quirk of the eyebrows. Race glared at himself and put the piece of mirror face down.

"Racetrack, are you gunna stand there all evening or are ya going ta come down and help us?" Blink asked, poking his head in the bathroom.

"Huh? Oh….yeah sure, I'll be down," Racetrack replied, looking over at Kid Blink, "What are we doing?"

Blink looked at him for a moment, then grinned, "Didn't you hear? The tree arrived!"

"Oh…ok, I'll be down." Race said, nodding his head and frowning.

Blink grinned and ran back downstairs, thumping the whole way. Racetrack sighed again, ran the comb through his hair one more time and put his hat on before going down to join the others.

Downstairs was indeed festive as the boys were putting the tree up and hanging it with handmade ornaments, ribbons made out of newspapers, pieces of colorful broken glass and a few real ornaments that Kloppman had had tucked away in a box somewhere. Jack was hanging his red bandana up on the tree, tied in some sort of knot. The little boys were helping Kloppman put the presents under the tree and Crutchy was cutting out paper snowflakes to hang off the counter ledge and railing.

Racetrack looked around at everyone, smiling, laughing, having fun and stuck his hands in his pockets. He didn't have anything to put on the tree or to put under the tree, but he did know how to get a present of sorts…

Jack climbed down from putting the paper star on the top of the tree and grinned. The one of the good things about being a newsie, was you had lots and lots of paper to make things out of.

"'S'matter Race?" Jack asked, seeing Race standing to one side and going over to him.

Racetrack looked up at him, "I'm going to go get your hat tomorrow, Jack. Do we…have anything I could take to Harlem for…you know…a…gift?"

Crutchy looked up from cutting snowflakes and smiled to himself. His questions about a present for Mush had gotten Race thinking after all.

Jack cocked his head to one side, "Race, its Christmas Eve tomorrow, you don't have to get my stupid old hat…" he said, putting an arm around Race's neck.

"But I want to Jack…and wouldn't it be a good gesture to send something to Harlem for Christmas?"

Jack grinned and nodded, pulling Racetrack over to the guys so they could discuss what to send Harlem. That night, Racetrack Higgins went to sleep a little bit warmer feeling inside, knowing that he had done something right for once, and nobody was going to hit him for trying……

_Manhattan ~ Harlem ~ December 24_

Christmas Eve morning found Racetrack waking up at the crack of dawn, shivering out of his blankets and into his boots, jacket, scarf and hat. The night before, the boys and Kloppy had gotten their money together and sent Dutchy and Itey out to a shop to by a bag of chocolates for Race to take to Harlem as a present.

Racetrack reached into his box for the crinkly bag of chocolate and tucked them under his jacket, then quietly slipped out of the bunkroom, not wanting to wake anyone before it was time. Once downstairs, he woke a note to Kloppman, letting him know when he had left and that if he wasn't home by dark, Harlem had kidnapped him.

That being said and done, he headed outside into the cold frozen world that was still asleep and headed north through Central Park, hunching his back against the icy wind that had picked up during the night.

Off the coast, the storm cloud had moved inwards some more, darkening, building, sucking up more and more moisture off the ocean……

Meanwhile in Harlem, Cobra and his boys were up and about, sneaking in and out, getting their little hordes of saved money out to buy things for each other, slipping in and out of alleyways like a bunch of spooks. More then once, someone would run into someone else and a lot of yelling and jumping up and down would go on, before they would slither off again.

Christmas gift buying always was a good excuse for being sneaky and devious. Cobra himself certainly wasn't above such sneaking about and did his fair share of it, haunting several stores in search of the perfect thing to get Will and Olaf. Olaf was easy really, if it was shiny or sweet he would like it. Willow was a bit more picky, but that only stood to reason, since she was a girl and an older girl at that.

As Cobra sauntered down the street, looking in windows and kicking snow, Fiend slunk out of a general store in front of him, glancing around nervously. Cobra grinned and scooped up a handful of snow, spat in it since it was rather dry, formed a nice round snowball and pitched.

Fiend took a step forward down the street just as the snowball made contact with the back of his neck, splattering and going down his shirt collar.

He promptly screamed bloody murder, causing many decent early morning people to turn their heads and stare, before hurrying off, some glancing over their shoulders.

"Right on target!" Cobra shouted, pitching another snowball and catching his best friend full on the ear as he turned around.

Cobra laughed at Fiend's expression of outrage and ducked behind a building corner as a retaliation snowball was thrown.

"Not nice! I was all warm! And…_you_ had to go get me _cold_!" Fiend yelled, lifting his shirt back up off his back and shaking it.

"You were only warm, because you were in there having hot chocolate with the Miss Weinstein's!" Cobra retorted, poking his head out, only to get creamed with a well timed snowball.

Fiend got his turn to laugh and did so, "So what if I was having hot chocolate? You're just jealous because you can't have hot chocolate with the Miss Weinstein's!"

Cobra retreated into the alleyway while some distinguished looking gentlemen passed and made snowballs, then popped his head out and barraged Fiend with snow, cackling under his breath,

"I am _not_ jealous!"

"Now now." Will suddenly said from behind Cobra, putting her arm around his neck and pulling him back.

Cobra cursed and jerked away, stepping out of the alley, "Don't sneak up on me."

She pulled him back into the alleyway and yanked him down by his coat collar, "I've been wanting to do this for a long time." she said.

"Do…what?"

For reply, Will pulled him down closer and kissed him deeply. Cobra's eyes went wide and he pushed her away his face turning red, "Are you…mad!?"

"Merry Christmas." she replied, before darting out into the street and leaving, laughing.

Cobra's wiped his mouth off with a gagging sound then grinned,

"Wow."

"Wow what? I've been waiting for you to poke your blonde head back out here." Fiend snapped, storming into the alley.

Cobra looked at him, then plastered him with a snowball, "I knew if I waited long enough you'd come see where I was."

Fiend stood there fuming and brushing the snow out of his coat collar and off his face, muttering in Italian under his breath rather rapidly. Cobra just laughed at him, then helped him get the snow out of his coat before they both went out and walked around, window shopping, smelling the smells of hot pastries and such….

Back down in Manhattan, Racetrack had trekked up through the middle of Central Park without stopping, despite the fact that his shoes were getting soaked through from plowing through the un-shoveled walkways and a frigid wind was blowing, steadily getting stronger and it was starting to snow.

The warm fuzzy feeling that had made him start out on this journey was quickly starting to fade and he found himself whining and wondering why the heck he had wanted to walk to Harlem just to get Jack's stupid greasy hat. Harlem didn't even _like_ him.

"These stupid chocolates are getting darn heavy." he grumbled, pulling them out of his jacket and looking at them hungrily.

The little bag was wrapped so nicely in it's crinkly paper and tied with a little ribbon, that Racetrack couldn't bring himself to open it and take one of the chocolates, no matter how hungry he was.

"Stupid Jack. Shouldn't have left his stupid hat up here in the first place. Could'a gotten Blink to go get it, his legs are longer. Wouldn't get so stinkin' wet," he snarled to himself, "Maybe I can con that Fiend character into a game of cards. He seems kinda dense…"

"I swear if that stupid storm comes in a dumps on me, Jack's going to owe me for the rest of his life. And if I get stinkin' sick he's going to owe past his lifetime. His grandkids are going to be paying _my_ grandkids till the end of their stupid lives. I could be sitting nice and warm next to the stove listenin' to Dutchy write letters to 'is parents. But oh no."

He continued to complain all the way through Central Park, and barley even noticed when he came into Harlem territory. In fact he probably would have ended up in Da Bronx if the blizzard hadn't set in about half way into Harlem.

It hit like most blizzards do, the wind howling and wagon loads of snow being dumped in a matter of minutes. Visibility was zero and Racetrack found himself huddled up next to a abandoned building, cussing the cold, wind, snow, Jack, New York City, his jacket, the chocolates and Harlem. Then he cussed Jack some more, and his parents and his grandparents and great-grandparents for having such a stupid, heartless offspring.

The blizzard went on unheeded by his curses and got stronger, dumping more snow on New York City.

An hour passed. The blizzard continued to rage with no signs of giving up. Racetrack was now huddled up in a ball, to cold to cuss or complain anymore. His humped up back was piling up with snow, soaking him to the skin as it slowly melted.

"M-my toes are going to f-fall off."

At just that moment, two angels of mercy in the forms of Seal and October struggled past the corner of the building and somehow heard him.

"Did you hear something!?" Seal yelled against the wind.

"I thought so! Hello!?"

Racetrack's eyes got as big as baseballs and he sat up, but quickly hunched over as the cold wind hit his fairly warm middle.

"D-down here!"

Seal and October frowned and stepped in the direction of the voice, their forms looming out of the white darkness and October bent down, yanking Racetrack out of the snow.

"Good heavens! Higgins!" he exclaimed, giving Racetrack a good shake to get the snow off of him.

Seal took his jacket off and wrapped Race in it, and together they packed him off, like a crippled mummy. Race remained wordless, to cold to say anything and allowed himself to be packed between October and Seal.

The two boys fought their through the storm and fifteen minutes and two blocks later, they burst in the Harlem lodging house door and dumped Racetrack next to the stove.

Everyone looked at them, then at Racetrack waiting in silence for an explanation. Will paused in her stirring of the_ risgrynsgrot, _Bouncer and Tic looked up from setting the table and lighting candles and Cobra dropped his hammer from putting a wreath up.

"What is _that_?" Willow exclaimed.

Seal glanced at her as he pulled his stocking cap off, "It's a frozen Racetrack."

"Found him to blocks down humped up in the snow. Not sure what he was doing around here in the middle of a snowstorm.." October added.

Cobra finished putting up the wreath, stuck the hammer in his pants pocket and went over to Racetrack, squatting down and resting on his heels.

"Yes Racetrack, what _were_ you doing in Harlem? Doing a bit of spy work for Jack?"

"Cobra. Be nice." Will snapped.

Racetrack sat up, getting rather toasty rather quickly and swallowed, searching for something to say. Nothing came to his ice cube of a brain, so he pulled out the chocolates and held them out.

"Merry….Christmas…"

Olaf suddenly started laughing, till he fell down then laughed some more. His childish glee at Racetrack's predicament lightened the whole room and giggles started bursting out, followed by laughter.

Cobra laughed as well and took the bag, pitching them on the table before helping Racetrack up,

"You came all this way just to give us a gift? Unbelievable."

"No…Jack sent me to get his hat…everyone pitched in to by the candy." Race replied, looking around the room and sniffing the air.

Wooden plates were set around the four person table, with candles placed in the middle and burning brightly. The scraggly tree to the one side was heavy with straw decorations the little boys had made, paper snowflakes and worn out sock figures of little gnomes. Candles had even been placed on the tree, firmly anchored by string, but unlit, as well as handmade Swedish flags.

Even though only Cobra, his brothers and a few others were Swede's, the non Swedish boys didn't mind at all having a Swedish Christmas. Luckily they didn't have to have pickled pigs feet, a common Christmas delicacy.

"His hat. Good, Tic has been complaining about that thing." Cobra said, putting his hand on Race's shoulder and steering him into a chair.

"I wasn't spying though, really. I just go caught in dat snowstorm…" Race said, still a bit worried that Cobra suspected him of espionage.

Cobra went into the back room for a moment, coming back out with Jack's black cowboy hat, "You're really not the spying type Racetrack. Here's his hat."

"Yeah Racetrack, it was just kinda strange finding you up here on Christmas Eve. We wouldn't really suspect ya as a spy." Seal added, handing him a cup of hot coffee that Will just poured.

Racetrack took a deep sip and sighed happily as the warmth spread through his body and made his toes tingle. As he watched the small group finish getting things ready for the next day and for the dinner that night, he smiled to himself and a different warm feeling spread into his soul.

Cobra watched Racetrack for a moment, then went into the 'kitchen' and leaned himself against Will,

"I guess you won't be getting the gloves."

"Stupid Racetrack." was Will's snapped response.

Cobra looked over at his shoulder to Race. Olaf had come shyly up to him and was offering him a piece of shortbread, grinning like a maniac.

"Well…it might not be as good as gloves…but…how about me?" Cobra asked in a whisper.

Fiend, who had been watching them, nudged Bouncer, "What are they whisperin' about all cozy in there?"

Bouncer frowned at his brother and Will, "I'm…not sure. But I wouldn't disturb them." he replied with a grin.

Fiend grinned back and plopped down on his bed, stretching out and yawning.

"So Racetrack, what are you going to miss out on in 'Hattan?" Tic asked, after pulling Knack away from trying to crawl under the stove.

Racetrack put his cup down on the table, "Oh…I dunno. Never had a Christmas in 'Hattan yet…"

"Gee Race, sorry you gotta spend it here with us. We aren't that bad though…" Seal said apologetically.

Cobra came out with the platter of pickled cod and set it on the table, "Don't be apologizing to Racetrack, he's not the one who decided to come up here."

Race's nose wrinkled at the sight of the pale picked fish and looked away coughing to cover up his gagging,

"Well…it kinda was my idea. Jack asked me to come get it, and I said no, but then changed my mind and said I would…"

"I knew there was a reason Bronx kicked you out." Cobra muttered, before turning and going to help Olaf tie his shoes, something he had been working on.

Before to long, it was time to eat and Will and Cobra were pulling platters of sausage, fish and baked apples out of the oven. Next came the _risgrynsgröt,_ which Will dished out herself onto the line of plates.

Racetrack watched everything with great interest, his stomach growling at all the lovely rich smells permeating the air. Having not eaten anything before leaving, he felt like a starved wolf, and eyed the sausage, licking his lips.

Everyone gathered around the table, Bouncer holding Olaf, who was 'wanting to be tall' just then, and Cobra said a word of thanks to his and his brothers gods. Then October said a few words for those who weren't heathens, thanking the Lord God for the past year. Racetrack shifted a little nervously, thinking of the stolen money in his pocket that he had taken from Boots a few days ago.

"Dinner, is served." Cobra said, when the saying of graces was over and sat down in his seat.

Racetrack got joustled to the back as the boys dove into the food, having been forced by Will to not eat the whole day. Of course none of them had been walking in the snow all day either.

"Hey! Let Racetrack get something first. He's our guest." Cobra suddenly said, slamming his fist down on the table.

The boys jumped and backed off, Tic pushing Race forward.

"Take whatever you can eat." Will said with a nod, handing him a plate.

Racetrack looked at the plate, then Cobra, who nodded at him telling him to go ahead. Slowly, he reached out and took one sausage off the platter, a baked apple and a piece of fish, before backing away from the table.

"Geez Race, you can take more than that." Seal said encouragingly.

"No…I'm fine. Tanks though…"

Seal shrugged and stepped forward to fill his plate with the others. Race looked around for a place to sit, since the brothers and Will were sitting at the table. He finally choose a choice place next to the barrel stove and sat down, folding his legs under him and watching the others.

Once everyone else had gotten their plates full and sat down on their beds or the floor, Bouncer looked around with a frown,

"Where's Racetrack?"

"Down 'ere." Race replied, waving his hand in the air.

Will shook her head as Bouncer got up and went into a back room, "You don't have to sit on the floor. Bouncer's getting you a chair."

Race shook his head in protest, but Will got a look on her face that said it was best not to argue with her, and he took the chair that Bouncer had brought out, sitting down next to Tic and Cobra.

A few moments of silence followed, everyone devouring their first bites, then slowed down, enjoying it. Outside the wind was still howling, the snow making little scratchy noises against the door and few windows as it was blown against them.

"This is really good Will. Thank you for feedin' me…" Racetrack said, as he finished up his food.

Will blushed a little and just nodded, not used to getting complimented on her cooking, then took a bite of her _risgrynsgröt_, but politely pulled an almond out of her mouth. Bouncer and Tic started laughing,

"Oh Will, whatever will we do without you?!" Tic exclaimed between giggles.

"I'm confused." Race whispered to Cobra as the others laughed.

Cobra grinned, "One almond is put in the bowl. Whoever gets the almond will get married the next year." he explained.

"Ohhh." Race said with a grin.

After dinner came time to open the few gifts they had gotten each other, and Racetrack sorta slouched down in the chair, feeling really out of place, until Cobra came up and handed him a package.

"Merry Christmas Race."

"What's…this? How did you know…I was coming?" Race asked, puzzled as he turned the package over.

Cobra smiled, the first time Racetrack had seen him smile, flashing rather white teeth,

"It's a custom my family has…to have a gift for a guest that might drop in. And if there isn't a guest, someone in the family gets it." he explained.

"Open it!" Fiend hollered.

Racetrack was starting to flush and pulled open the wrapping and pulled on the soft gloves.

"These are really nice guys…Thanks. I needed a pair of gloves…"

The door suddenly swung open, blowing snow inside and a skinny, rather tall gnome came in, carrying some packages and stomping his feet. Olaf's eyes went wide,

"The _Jultomten_!" he gasped, jumping up and staring.

"The what?" Race asked Bouncer, who was sitting next to him.

"Our version of Santa Claus." Bouncer replied simply, watching his little brother and the twins.

Racetrack nodded and watched, then looked around at everyone laughing together and talking. The warm feeling flooded him as he realized that Christmas wasn't just about having a tree and giving presents, but about being a family, related or not, and getting along with each other, not just then, but all the time. It didn't have to be about getting drunk and eating loads of food with relatives that you didn't even like.

He smiled, glad that Jack's hat had made him come to Harlem, and that Cobra and his boys had showed him what Christmas was really about…

Being a family, no matter what.

**The End.**

**Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.**


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